


Falling for the Impossible

by neolouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 06:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5616694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neolouis/pseuds/neolouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry had a murder case to investigate. Louis was the victim.</p><p>or an AU where Harry fell in love with a dead man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling for the Impossible

**Author's Note:**

> hello I know I have one on-going story to continue but I write stuff because I feel like it so here's another plot. some parts in this story might be illogical because I have no idea how lawyers really work. read it and you'll see what I mean. also, the names, places and details I've put in the story are all bull coming from my mind so don't even try to search it on the internet because they'll not be there or they're not what you'll find.

April 2014 Harry found himself trapped in the middle of a complex case involving the murder of Louis Tomlinson of apartment 14, Saree Building, Est Coast. He stood, lower back against the fence of the balcony, a cup of milk in his hands. His mind wandered back to the office; the time when he saw the man for the first time - an almost bald, with slight beard covering half of his strong complexion and shoulders framing his body a tough square. He goes by the name Liam Payne, introduced himself as a good friend to the victim. Harry remembered the dark crescents under his eyes, the black bump of probably a month lack of sleep, and the bitter smile in failed attempt to hide his misery.

He'd been working in the law for three cases, one of which gained two of his other clients’ trust. Payne came after, and considering his experience, the number of workload Harry already had was more than enough to deprive him of rest. Before he could decline the request, Payne’s deep, exhausted voice stopped him entirely. The plea was for Harry to only read the file, and that was it. Payne told him it was all he asked, and he would leave should Harry still stick to his decision. So, he did.

Louis Tomlinson. He was a local writer, hiding behind the name Harry had seen in every bookstore in the area. Raised by a single mother, but lived alone in his apartment for eight years after graduated from college. Harry had scanned his records, and his face; the thin, clean lips dug into one cheek and the very blue, captivating pair of eyes, looking straight into his as if they were real. As if they were seeking for help.

The door at the end of the hallway shook, the sound clawed into his thoughts. Milk spilled out to his knuckles. Harry looked around. He should be the only one on the floor, the closed scene allowed only through signed papers and tags. Intruder? he wondered. Carefully, he took steady steps towards the dark, narrow space, illuminated lightly by the sunlight seeping under the door. The thumping in his heart grew to his throat as he neared. When he was close to touching the doorknob, it turned and creaked.

Harry stood still. The door opened, and the room welcomed him with cold air, warm to the summer touch, but enough to stretch his hair at the back of his neck. It was an even closed space, the windows were shut. There were clothes on the floor and the bed was unmade. The apartment scene was left as it was seen last, the day of the murder. He wanted to leave, but the sudden thud on the bedside table stopped him on his track. The drawer slid open, ever so subtly but detectable. Harry felt his hands tremble, the cold embraced him wholly.

‘Ye aren't supposed to be in 'ere.’

Harry turned around. A smaller man, with hair as golden as sand in the summer sun, gave him a stern look before pushing Harry out of the room and slammed the door shut. Harry noticed the Irish accent the first time he heard him talk. His eyes were blue, darkened into silver in the dimly lit hall.

‘Who gave ye access?’ he asked.

‘I'm sorry. My name’s Harry Styles, Mr. Payne hired me for the case.’

The man watched Harry’s offer for a handshake, gave two seconds to accept it with his firm hand and then faked a smile. ‘Niall Horan. I almost forgot ab't it. Liam did tell me he'd pay for an attorney, I didn't know he could still afford one.’

‘I've only just started, the pay isn't much.’

‘Oh, great. Hopeless.’ Horan sighed. ‘Look, ye seem like a cool guy and 'm sure ye good at what ye do but please, can ye just not bother with 'tis case?’

Horan challenged him in a glare - Harry could feel his determination, and he wasn't wanted in the mystery.

Being firm and strict to clients had always been Harry’s weakness, but now though his knees were shaking, he managed a relaxed expression.

‘I'm sorry but Mr. Payne and I have signed an agreement. Should he change his mind on hiring me, it must be of a plausible explanation, from him, directly. Then only negotiation can be carried, decisions will be made-’

‘Cut 'e crap.’ The grip on Harry’s shirt collar pulled him down to level with the smaller man’s blue orbs as he hissed. ‘Listen 'ere. 'M not interested in yer bull so why don't ye' save it for yourself. All I ask is for ye to leave, I don't want me friend to waste any more money and hope. Ye lawy'rs are good for nothing. Ye're wasting yer time and ours so get 'e fuck out of 'ere b'fore I smash ye head with me own fist.’ Every word escaped through the spaces of his gritted teeth, and soon as they echoed through the corridors, Horan let his grip go with a harsh push. He turned his heel, spun around to leave.

For a man with normal built body and eyes as kind, Harry didn't think he could do what he did. Harry mustered all that was left of his courage to call the angry stranger.

‘I don't know what happened before but I think if you gave me a chance I could bring justice to your friend.’

‘What friend 're ye talking about? The one that's dead or the one that's dead?’ A fist on one hand, Horan spun around. The kind, terrified eyes hiding behind sorrowful tears, nothing that could fool Harry of his pain. ‘Payne 's a soulless body. He remembers not even a single memory but the blood t'was in his hand t'day he found 'im on the cold floor. 'e's not 'ere 'nymore. 'nd if that bastard didn't kill anyone, that idiot Tomlinson took 'is own life. He's not 'ere anymore. Neither of them are 'ere anymore, you shit. So, I suggest you leave them alone, and pray they shall rest in peace.’

‘The day of the murder, were you-’

‘Shut t'fuck up, will ye?’ Horan snapped, brows creasing in disbelief. ‘What par' of leavin' us alone can't ye understand?’

Harry took a deep breath. He decided the friend was still in grief, and trust was a difficult bet at the moment. When he left through the door, the weeping echoing from inside gave him more reason for persistence. Reluctant, he walked back to the living room, finding the previously angry man sob and fight for breath in his arms over his knees. Harry dropped down to sit next to the stranger and clamped his hands together over his bent legs. Soon enough, the wheezing quieted down, until there were no sound but calm and uneven breathings.

‘I thought I told ye to leave,’ Horan muffled in his small cage.

‘You didn't want me to.’

‘He was an idol m're than he was a friend.’ Silence was all that filled in the small pause. ‘Louis was me friend since the first grade. Always been everyone’s favourite, always been the top in everything. He doesn't deserve this.’

Harry let another silence flow between them, but Horan kept it longer.

‘Do you think he was murdered?’ Harry asked.

‘I wish he was if it had to be that or him giving up on 'imself. He was a strong man, I don't want to believe he would do something as weak as 'tis.’

‘Can you tell me what you know about the day it happened?’

Niall stayed quiet then for a few minutes. Somewhere in the back of his mind said it was pointless, to tell another lawyer of the same nightmare only to face another disappointment. Thrice in the two years different faces in suit had come and go, with aim for nothing but money. It was only the right thing to do to accept the truth that no one was there but the victim himself and... Zayn. It was fact that the suspects, or anyone who could have held grudges against his good friend, had proven alibi to not agree with accusations. Niall only had trust to support his belief. The belief that the Louis he knew wouldn't hurt a single soul, not even his own. The trust that he was the person who Niall thought he was.

‘I was on me way back home from school when I received his call...’ Lips quivering, the moment flashed back into his mind. The raindrops, water splashed over the boots that sat in his wardrobe for several months, as if they were guilty of his loss. The raindrops, light and pitiful, much like those that fell across his face as he sucked in air in pathetic force.

‘You don't have to tell me now.’

Niall peeked through the gap over his bent elbow.

‘Let's have dinner out tonight. My treat,’ Harry was kind enough to smile after his riot. ‘We can talk about it once you feel like you're starting to trust me.’

*

Night was dead silent in the city of London. Rich, orange lights flickered just below the dark, midnight blue sky, where the streets slept next to an empty road. It was three days after Harry had met Niall, the once obviously was a happy fella, and he stood where he once had stood, the balcony. Workload kept increasing though he promised not to take more offers, as was the number of witnesses and evidence on the desk in his office. He needed time off.

Somehow, Louis’ lonely apartment gave him what he needed - peace. Rumours had gone on and about of the supposably haunted fifth floor, but Harry hadn’t minded his own doubt. He came twice before, since his first visit, both times he'd watched the view from the balcony. There was a small park close to the street below him, abandoned; the swings, the seesaws were eaten by rust. Sometimes, Harry heard music coming from the floor above, a classic, calm melody which complemented his feelings when he stood on the white tile. Louis had a great taste for a perfect home. It made a wonder, what was he like as a person?

He hadn't heard of Liam since their first meeting, and he took the risk of keeping it that way to please the person who could potentially lead him somewhere with what he'd witnessed and that person was Niall. He and Niall were slowly becoming close acquaintances, but not enough to get the blonde to talk about his past. Seldom he'd slip Louis’ name through his tongue, and bitten it right back. The case was going nowhere but Harry knew all they needed was a little bit more time.

The last few days he'd spent trying to track the victim’s claimed unknown family to no avail. Louis used to live about a few hours away from the centre of the city, but it could take a sacrificial trip to get things uncovered. Tomorrow was the first court trial for the divorce case of a Caucasian couple with three children. Maybe after then he could pay the unconfirmed stay a visit.

He made that bet in his mind, finished his milk and walked towards the front door, not before turning off the lights shimmering the humble chandelier over the coffee table in the middle of the room. The lights came back on after blinking twice. Looking around, he found no shadow. With overflowing cold rush under his skin, he reached the switch, stopped by the slow click at the closed door. Harry ran over, grabbed the doorknob and shook the wood against its firm frame.

Okay, he thought to himself, you’re just really tired. You need a drink, that’s all. Take a deep breath. Open this fridge door. There’s nothing inside. How about this drawer? Glasses, great. All I need is water-

The drawer slid shut, causing Harry to jump back at the impact. An unseen but real force pushed him to his right, where the corridors were lit the same way it did in the room before. Air blew on his side, his long, brown locks followed its direction, and then the end door opened. Harry was caught in between his regret and disbelief. All the years being taught by logic and reality suddenly came in a haze, though he calculated the probability that he was dreaming or having a panic anxiety for tomorrow's case. That might be just it, he decided. He could leave now, but his feet walked towards the room of the previous tenant. He could just help close the door but he kept on walking.

Again, there was a small tap on the bedside table. If this was a dream, Harry decided, it could mean Louis was trying to tell him something. His vision continued to blur his focus, black swirls on the corner of his eyes. Then, black completely.

Last night, Harry remembered he stood at the balcony. The soft wind of warm summer kissed his cheek the next day. The blackness a while ago was replaced by the growing sunlight, showering through the open balcony, where Harry’s head pointed. The sound of birds singing followed the cars swooshing on the road. Then, Harry remembered the dream.

He shot upright, snapping his head from his left to its right and back, rich dark hair, almost cinnamon under the glaring sun, swaying in the opposite direction. Harry saw the front door open, and then Niall sweeping the glittering pieces on the floor.

‘What were ye doin' last night?’ Niall was slowly opening the windows of his locked self. The question came with a questioning laugh, dry but at least alive. ‘Don't ye think it's in'ppropriate to get drunk in someone else’s house, let 'lone a dead man’s?’

Harry felt the throbbing pain in his head. He probably was drunk. ‘I don't remember being wasted.’

‘So does everyone 'lse.’ Niall shook his head and smiled at the broom in his hand. Harry watched him throw the broken glass into the bin and get some water from the fridge.

Eyes wide, Harry scooted over the end of the couch, closer to the kitchen. ‘Did you just put it there?’ Niall looked at the bottle in his hand.

‘No, I fill the fridge every Monday so it's never empty.’

‘Oh… Do you come here everyday?’

‘Yeh, except when I 've morning shift on me job.’

‘Why?’

‘So people would think it has its bidder.’

It sounded quite amusing to the curly man, but Niall didn't mind when he heard him chuckle.

‘You two were really close, weren't you?’ Harry asked.

‘He, Liam and I were a team. We grew up together.’

‘And Malik?’

‘He's shit.’ He said it like a reflex, his hands tightened around the stick. ‘I don't even know why Liam goes through all shit for 'im.’

‘I guess because he's shit, innit? They say you have to go through a kind before you arrive to its leader. Get it?’

Niall turned his head to the man on the sofa. Convinced his hearing hadn't been wrong, he smiled and chuckled. ‘Exactly.’ He returned his focus on the clean, white floor. ‘Anyway, I wouldn't be surprised if he really killed Lou. He betrayed him before, he'd betray him again.’

‘So you were friends before? What happened?’

‘Yeh. I don't know what happened. He mingled with new friends and forgot the old ones. Those bastards framed Louis for drug trading and that Malik didn't even do anything about it. Luckily the police were smart enough to solve the case and they went to jail for it. Guess what? Malik didn't even apologise later. Instead we're dead to him. It's only good that he's where he should be, reunited with his dear friends. For god’s sake.’ His Irish accent got thicker every time he mumbled the disappointment. Harry was sure Niall didn't realise he was uncovering a past to the lawyer, by the way he suddenly froze.

‘Great,’ Niall sighed, ‘Ye can tell that man about what I said, I don't care.’

Harry laughed. ‘I won't. But I will be seeing him on Friday, though.’

‘Really? Then tell 'im I said hi and may 'e go to hell.’

‘You don't give second chances, do you?’

‘Hey, I gave him all the second chances he didn't want to have, man. But 'e didn't even appreciate it. What a waste. I learned. Liam hasn't. He even wasted more money for irrelevant things, that fool.’

Processing his next words, Harry softened his voice. ‘What about Louis, then?’ Niall shrugged in reply.

‘Louis was just cool. If he came back, he'd accept him. But there's no point in forcing others to want someone in their life, he'd say.’

‘He sounds like a nice guy.’

‘He was,’ Niall said, picking up Harry’s voiced thoughts, and smiled down at him. ‘If he'd been alive, you two could be good friends.’

‘Why is that?’ Harry asked, eyebrows raised and lips pouted and curved into a curious smile.

Niall lifted his shoulders. ‘I just feel like he'd like ye. A lot. You know, when ye feel two people have that something in common- or complementary to each other like puzzle pieces? Summat like that, 'guess.’ Eyes wide, he dropped the broom and waved his defensive hands. ‘No, no, I'm sorry. I'm not saying y're gay or anything. It’s just that-’

‘It's okay, I'm bi,’ Harry laughed.

A sigh of relief and Niall caught the broomstick, brought back a smile.

‘But you know you've just met me, Niall.’

‘A lunch and I asked ye to call me by my first name. I think you can guess by now that I find you interesting,’ Niall said, ‘I just feel like ye two would fit each other very well. Because I know Louis and he had always been alone. I spent my life searching for the right person for him.’

‘So, you're saying I'm right for him?’

‘Don't be ridiculous,’ Niall puffed a sarcastic laughter. ‘Louis ain't that easy. 'm just saying y're a potential candidate. As were many others I found before.’

‘A potential candidate,’ Harry repeated, amused. ‘Wait, is he…?’

‘Yeh, but it doesn't matter. He's also dead. The next stage would be ye trying to win 'is heart, which those candidates failed to do. Now, Harry Styles, ye 'ave failed without even trying.’

Harry looked at the smile on Niall’s face before locking his briefcase. ‘Well then I have to get cracking on that case and bring his death to justice, don't I?’

Niall pursed his lips to one side, shook his shoulders and rolled his eyes at the ceiling, faking innocence. ‘I guess you should.’

It took less time than he expected to gain the best friend’s trust for him to start talk and joke about it. But then again Niall was a tricky, confusing man so he might have something else planned behind his act. For sure, both of them found the idea of love growing between Harry and Louis ridiculous. There was, however, one thing that Harry found from the humour, stuck in his mind all the way through his journey back home - it triggered his interest in knowing the dead more.

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter is louleesin if ever you want to ask questions because I don't log on often here I thought that wasn't going to be a problem because I'm irrelevant af but it was anyway so


End file.
